Before the Storm (Hurricane Irma)

The wind whips my hair around my neck –

A gentle noose, taunting my mortality,

My frail life-force, facing off against real power.

I march along the pavement, determined not to be

The next fatality.

The Storm won’t take me.

The students and the refugees all hunker down and wait.

No power, no light, no air;

No escape.

Branches rattle,

The wind howls at the mere mortals

And the animals at its mercy.

We’ve been advised to seek shelter and

Stay there, safe from the pelting rain.

Once ominous gestures have become a

Barrage of screaming insults in less than a day.

Those who once dominated nature,

Cut her up, abused her bounty,

Now cowering before her wrath.

A sudden crash startles me; I look around,

Anxiously waiting as The Storm approaches.

Here I stay, all alone in the dark.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country


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